Fever Dreams
by Magical Me6666
Summary: Passion, it lies in all of us, sleeping, waiting. And though unwanted, unbidden it will stir open its jaws and howl. It speaks to us, guides us. Passion rules us all, and we obey. What other choice do we have? Without passion, we'd be truly dead."


**Title: **Fever Dreams

**Rating: **Strictly M people. Not for the faint hearted.

**Summary: **Molly/Daniel/Betty triangle. I took a chance with this one, not sure if I was ready to write getting Daniel and Betty getting together so early but neh.

**A/N: ***worries* Seriously, not sure how I feel about it. Hopefully ye like it, I think it's just cos we haven't seen much flirting between them I can't fully imagine their romantic trysts though I definitely want them to get together. Yeah anyway hope you like :)

_She's like the wind through my tree/She rides the night next to me/Feel her breath on my face/Her body close to me/Can't look in her eyes/She's out of my league_

Daniel Meade couldn't believe he was marrying this woman.

Daniel Meade notorious playboy, Daddy's protégé, and serial cheater was getting married. And he wasn't scared. Not one little bit of him. By all rights he should have been terrified. After all he was giving up the dream. Everything would change in this moment, his life as he knew it was going to be over. But he kept thinking of the new one that was about to begin. The new experiences, the excitement – it was a brand new journey. He wasn't sure why he was scared of it before. His life was actually quite mundane in comparison. He knew what was going to happen day from day. He'd get up, wave off the woman in his bed, go to work, go clubbing, pick up a new woman, bring her home and repeat the same process over the next day. Although strange his schedule was all he knew. But the idea of change didn't scare him at all. Quite the contrary. He felt his heart leap at the thought of having this woman in his bed every morning, the thought of watching films with her at the end of the night, the idea of one day starting a family. Despite this being boring to some it was now all he craved. He needed change.

She was in front of him, white draping her face. He wished he could see into her eyes, gauge if she was feeling the same things as him.

"I now pronounce you man and wife," the priest announced with a smile, "You may kiss your bride."

Another leap in his chest.

He lifted the veil slowly; terrified she might disappear when he did. But she didn't. There she stood, blue eyes gazing at him, twinkling. She had a cheeky grin and she mouthed an "I love you" as their gazes met. He just smiled back, leaning down and kissing her.

"I love you too Molly Meade," he whispered as he pulled back.

Daniel Meade couldn't believe he'd married this woman.

_She's like the wind through my tree/She rides the night next to me/She leads me through moonlight/Only to burn me with the sun_

"Congratulations Daniel," Wilhelmina said, touching his arm with all the falseness he'd grown accustomed to. "You make a lovely couple."

He forced a small smile and nodded. A twinge of guilt twisted like a knife in his chest. Sometimes, only sometimes, he regretted how he'd met Molly. Not that he'd met her just how. He glanced back, seeing her laughing with her mother and sister. Her blonde hair draped in soft curls down to her elbows. He loved it long, and the urge to touch it never lessened with time.

"I haven't seen Stephanie, where is she?" Daniel asked. Wilhelmina gave a quick scan around the room on his request for his baby sister.

"She needed a nappy change," she replied, "I sent Mark."

"Will you bring her over when he comes back?" he requested. It was such an odd feeling he had for the child. At the beginning he could hardly look at her, but as she grew, dark hair and sharp blue eyes, he was startled to see often his own face looking back at him.

"Of course Daniel."

And with that Wilhelmina had returned to the side of her fiancé, kissing him on the lips. He wasn't shocked that her relationship with Connor hadn't lasted. Both were too ambitious and he had a sneaking suspicion Connor had never quite gotten over Molly. Instead she was now on the arm of one of the richest (and oldest) men in New York. It made much more sense than the original pairing.

"Oi, Daniel," a familiar Scottish accent beckoned him. He spun around faced with Christina, drink in hand.

"Christina," he said, clinking glasses with the blonde. "You look well."

"Oh shut up ya fool," she dismissed him, "I've just shot out the sprog of the Devil, and I'm still carrying 20 pounds of fat."

He laughed despite himself and it didn't faze her. Instead she took a long swig from her glass. "Oh that feels good," she said aloud, and he wondered if she was talking to him or herself. "So where's that lovely ex assistant of yours? I texted her today to see if she was coming but no reply."

The mention of Betty made him stiffen and this didn't go unnoticed by the Scottish woman. She squinted, curious. "She was invited wasn't she?"

"Yes she was."

"Did she RSVP?"

"No she didn't."

"You two aren't still fighting are ya?"

"I'm not fighting with her."

"Don't be a smartass Meade that's not what I asked."

"She didn't approve of my girlfriend Christina. We're not exactly getting along right now."

"And she quit leavin' ya."

"That has nothing to do with it. And I really don't want to discuss this on my wedding day."

With that he turned around, but Christina was relentless, following the path he made through the guests and out to the balcony.

"It's a bit odd you asked the blonde princess in there to marry you the day you have a huge blowout with your assistant and she quits."

"Christina." His voice was low, a warning. She had crossed a line, a line he let very few cross.

"And then you get married three months later. In a bit of a hurry were we?"

"Christina."

"Oh look Daniel," she said waving her hand in his face dismissively, "I don't care. I just know you miss her yeah? And she misses you."

He stared out to the lake. A swan sat alone near the shore and he briefly considered how odd this was considering they usually mate for life.

"It doesn't matter. If she can't accept Molly then that's it."

"That's it? Four years of friendship and lo-..." She stopped upon his glare and went back reconsidering her sentence. "Four years of friendship. And it's over? Just like that?"

"She chose this not me."

He turned and this time she didn't chase after him, instead watching as he returned to his wedding party. The room was sweltering and the music was loud and he was overwhelmed by people coming up to congratulate him on his marriage. All he could think about was her and he hated Christina for it. It took a long time for Daniel to forget his assistants betrayal and he was mad he let himself get worked up over it now.

"Daniel?"

He looked up, his wife smiling at him gently, her hand resting on his stomach. "Are you ok darling?"

He forced a smile and kissed her cheek. "I'm fine, I think I just have a headache."

"You think you have a headache?" she laughed gently, her hand finding his cheek and cupping it. "You want to go to the bridal room? Take a breather? I'll tell everyone not to bother you."

She was so loving, so kind. He had never met anyone quite like her. And although he knew this wasn't strictly true he forced himself to believe it.

"Yeah I think I might," he replied, "I'll be back soon."

She leant up and kissed his lips with the gentlest of touches.

"Take your time Mr Meade."

"I'll be back soon Mrs Meade," he reiterated, pulling away from her, albeit reluctantly. While passing he pulled a bottle of champagne out of a cooler, a gesture his wife noticed as her gaze followed him to the bridal suite.

_She's taken my heart/But she doesn't know what she's done/I look in the mirror and all I see/Is a young old man with only a dream/Am I just fooling myself/that she'll stop the pain/living without her I'd go insane_

He didn't like what looked back at him in the reflection of the full length mirror. These moments were few and far between recently and he knew that was because of the woman outside. She made him not despise what he saw. She made him believe he was inherently good. There was only one woman in the world who made him feel that way. And Christina was right. A huge part of him did miss his best friend terribly. But he had made a decision. He chose his happiness over hers. Something he wasn't sure he'd fully forgive himself for but something he had to do.

He had to let Betty Suarez go.

He clenched his eyes shut taking a swig from the glass bottle. It trickled down to his empty stomach, making the pit ache even more. But it was a pleasant ache. A warm, fuzzy feeling attributed to the alcohol.

When his eyes opened he was faced with another set staring back at him in the mirror. Surprise gave way to confusion which gave way to anger when the familiarity of the deep brown set hit him.

"What are you doing here?"

"I was invited," she replied quietly, shutting the door behind her. He didn't bother turning to face her instead taking another long gulp.

"You didn't RSVP." His voice verged on mad but he kept it low, afraid of himself if he let any feeling show.

"I wasn't sure if I was coming," she replied. He looked at her reflection in the mirror. She looked so different to him now. The red rimmed glasses no longer sat perched on the end of her nose, replaced by contacts, her braces had disappeared and she was dressed a pale blue chiffon dress that fell just below her knees. Her hair was sleeker, longer somehow and fell in fashioned bangs past her shoulders. Apparently leaving him did her good.

Her eyes never left his in the mirror and she stood straight, proud.

"Why are you here Betty?"

"I wanted to congratulate you," she whispered, for the first time her gaze falling to her feet. "I miss you."

"It was your choice to leave." He was short with her, still angry. Despite the warm feeling in his chest.

"I didn't really have a choice," she said, moving forward, "You chose her."

He spun around sharply, his jaw clenched. "I did not choose anyone!" His arms flayed some of the champagne spilling from the nozzle of the bottle.

"You knew I didn't agree with the relationship," she choked out, trying to keep her emotions in check. "You knew I wasn't happy with it."

"And why was that Betty?" He advanced quickly, looming over her. She forgot how tall he was. The smell of his body and the colour of his eyes were other memories that had also faded in the past three months, but she shook off this idea with a visible shiver.

"You don't love her."

He laughed, but it was a bitter sound. "We going back to this again?"

"You told me Daniel. You told me you didn't."

"I was drunk Betty! I could've said I was hiding Osama Bin Laden in my Loft, would you have believed that?"

"His presence didn't really come up in conversation but hers did," she said, taking a step back. He in turn walked away from her, his back facing her as he leaned his head into the wall by the mirror. "You told me you were in love with the idea of her Daniel. You wanted this life, not her."

"I love her Betty!" he mumbled, clenching his eyes shut, "How many times?"

"As many as you want. I won't believe you."

He let out a sigh, a defeated noise, and she watched his back hunched over by the wall.

"Then I guess we're done here," he replied after a lengthy silence neither was comfortable in.

"Daniel..." she uttered his name in such a way his heart wrenched.

"I needed you with me on this one," he said quietly, "I needed you to have my back. More than ever."

She didn't reply, instead was now studying her hands with such concentration she thought if she stared at them for any longer they'd disappear.

"I look at her and I see a future Betty." He was talking to the wall and was afraid that when he eventually tried to stand upright he'd fall down. "I see happiness, I see kids. I see a house with a white picket fence, I see a Volvo and a golden retriever in the garden. Isn't that love?"

"It is. But I'm so afraid its love of the dream rather than of Molly," she replied, relentless. It's what he once loved about her. Another sigh and she decided to approach, carefully and quietly. She could imagine his face scrunched up, tired and unforgiving. She hated doing this to him. She tentatively reached out a hand, letting it slide up his back in a gesture that was meant to remind him of her presence but instead startled them both with the electricity that it generated when it rested on him. He stood upright, hands on hips, bottle hanging loosely by his side.

"Look at me," she whispered. He turned slowly, falling back on the wall, head hanging. When his gaze refused to meet hers she moved forward so she was standing close. He could feel her breath, gentle and warm lapping against his chest. His shirt was undone at the top, his bow tie hanging open under the collar.

Hesitantly her hand travelled again, sliding up onto his neck, finding his hair and tangling in it.

"Look at me Daniel," she breathed, "Look at me and tell me you're in love with her and not the dream."

It was with great reluctance his gaze finally met hers and she found herself catching a breath when she was met with the startlingly blue colour of his eyes.

"I married her," he murmured, his own hands finding the curve of her neck and tracing a line. His eyes were wet with tears, everything overwhelming him. In their four years they'd never been this close ever and he wondered why.

Alcohol soaked breath hits her but she doesn't turn away, her forehead instead bumping his gently.

"I wanted her to make everything stop, to make it all right, we make sense," he mumbled, his eyes closing again. His hands were still wandering, his fingers now touching her full red lips.

"You don't love her Daniel," she repeated, "You haven't found what you're looking for yet. And that's ok. You'll find it."

"I want this so much," he told her. Neither of them knew which he meant. A life with Molly or something else entirely. Something that frightened them both. "I want it like I've never wanted anything before. I need to know if it's right."

"You'll never know until you try," she choked out, still unsure of him. She gasped as he leant down and captured her lips in a kiss, caressing hers with his. She doesn't think and neither does he when her lips part and his tongue invades, plundering the warmth of her mouth. He felt her tug on his hair with both hands and he let out a grunt sounding more animal than human as he spun them both around, pressing her back to the cold hardness of the wall. He was afraid to stop kissing her but he wanted to desperately taste her skin, his mouth drawn to her neck. She let him travel down, sucking and biting on the skin there. Her free hand hit against the wall as she tried to find leverage, anything to stop her sinking to the floor. He travelled lower and lower until she could feel the wetness of his mouth close in around her nipple, sucking and nibbling.

"Daniel," she gasped. Her voice had never sounded so good. He'd come to know it of that of a friend, an annoying friend at that, but never in the sultry way she just uttered it. He knew then he'd want to hear it over and over.

Another grunt as he pressed her harder up against the wall his hands falling to his belt, desperately trying to free his hardness from the constraining pants. Noticing he was having trouble her own hands batted his away and forcefully tugged at the belt, her body wanting it gone. He braced himself against the wall with one arm while his hand disappeared up the layer of chiffon, stroking her there.

"Oh God Daniel," she whispered, forgetting what she was doing and gripping his shoulders for dear life. He didn't know what he wanted to do first; kiss her, touch her, or fuck her. He wanted it all at once but his fumbling hands weren't listening. Instead his lips sought out hers once more. His kisses were clumsy but skilled, something she found herself wanting to get used to.

"I need to..." he trailed off, desperately tugging at his trousers.

"What?" she asked, her head rolling back.

"I just got to...."

"What?" she asked a little more urgently.

"I want to fuck you."

She met his hungry gaze, startled by his phrasing. No lover she had ever had, had spoken to her in that way. It was different. Good different. So good different she let out a groan when his hand stroked her again and she said something she never thought she would.

"Please Daniel...fuck me..."

The sound of her begging him to make love to her was too much, and he finally managed to free himself from his pants.

"Open your legs," he instructed with a husky whisper. She did as he asked and let out the sexiest noise he had ever heard when he trailed her panties down her thighs. He didn't ask her if it was ok again, instead entered her quickly and she winced, not used to the size.

"Oh," she said in a heavy breath, her chest rising and falling.

"Are you ok?"

"I just need time..." She let herself adjust to the feeling of his penis inside her, still wincing when either of them made any small movement.

"You sure?"

"Just go," she commanded, her eyes clenched shut. There was a nagging voice in his head that told him to be careful, to not hurt her, the same one that had kept her on a pedestal for the past four years. Another louder voice was telling him to fuck her until she disappeared, until she wasn't in his head anymore. And it was the one winning out. He began to move, rocking against her, pulling out and in.

It hurt, that she couldn't deny, but after a few hard thrusts pleasure soon gave way and she never wanted him to stop. Her back hit the wall over and over. He wasn't gentle and she didn't want him to be.

"Harder," she rasped. He heard her head thud back against the wall and he pounded against her, going deeper each time. It was animalistic and not something he would've imagined with Betty. If he had ever imagined it. Her nails tore down his back, clutching at his hair and her lower body met his with equal thrust. She was writhing, sweating, moaning. He knew he couldn't hold out much longer, but he knew she couldn't either. He watched as her mouth opened, about to let out a scream and his hand clapped over it, muffling the noise. It seemed to only spur her on and he felt her clench around him, screaming her release into his hand. He followed soon after, grunting into her neck.

After the waves of pleasure came the guilt, then the remorse. He could see it written on her face, beads of sweat forming on her forehead.

"Oh god," she whispered, her hand flying to her mouth and her eyes flying to the floor. "Oh God."

He pulled back, and she could feel her own wetness seeping down her thigh. She felt like she could throw up. He kept glancing at her as he tidied up, zipping up his pants and tucking in his shirt. She refused to look at him instead staring at the floor intently.

"You might wanna tidy up," he said nodding at her panties, pooled around her knees. She nodded silently, and he could hear her gulp as she pulled them up.

"I don't...I need..."

He walked over to the locker and pulled some tissue from the Kleenex box handing her one.

This was definitely not how he imagined it.

She silently cleaned herself up and threw it in the trashcan.

"We can't see each other again," he said finally. She looked up, her hand hiding her smeared lipstick. He looked in her eyes and saw the hurt there.

"Daniel?" she asked.

"Please stay away Betty. I love Molly."

"But we...you..."

"I fucked you. So what?"

He was trying to be nonchalant but it was harder than he thought. Tears welled and his throat closed up, making it hard to breathe.

"I'm in love with my wife."

"Ok."

She pulled down her dress and he fought the urge to help, instead watching as she breezed past him, smoothing down her hair. He heard her stop at the door, her heels no longer clicking against the hardwood floor.

"I'm sorry Daniel."

"Me too."

_Can't look in her eyes/she's out of my league/just a fool to believe I have anything she needs/She's like the wind_


End file.
